The Nearest and Dearest
by lochlomond
Summary: PG in case. The Oliver gang is back...with a girl, a rich murderer, perhaps some romance and very little Oliver. I'm rather bad at summaries, as you can see, and I'm also quite prepared for a suggestion for my title...I find it sad.
1. Preface: In Which The Girl Appears

Disclaimer: Most of this belongs to whoever owns Dickens' stuff now, so don't sue me for anything… Please.

Author's Note: All books are special in their own individual way, but classics are especially special because they are immortal. Even so, classics have every right to also be mutilated or at least changed by a variety of fans. This story is my attempt to do so. If you dislike the "present tense" stuff, do not worry. This is just my preface. The real stuff is all past tense. Well… Here goes.

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The girl stands by the marker, looking at it curiously. 

Her black hair is pulled back by a purple band that matches the wide and thick array of her layered skirts. Large brown eyes mix-match a narrow nose and pixie-like face framed with straying hairs. 

She lays a tanned, thin hand on the stone marker and traces the harsh, thick writing.

**_London_****_. 3 miles._**

****

The rattling of a cart can be heard approaching the road. Its heavy wheels bouncing on stones and rolling through ditches are loud, but nothing compared to the sound of the driver who is yelling curses at the "hideously slow" horse.  

The cart, horse, and driver suddenly appear over the hill, going straight for the wild-eyed girl. In a flurry of skirts and a flick of long black hair, the girl disappears, her brown eyes seeming to be the last thing to go.

Sir Cart Driver, intent on controlling his horse while beating it, does not notice his potato sacks moving to allow more room for his newest and largest passenger. 

_The last three are the longest and hardest._


	2. In Which She Meets He

(Because not every has read the Oliver Twist book, this is going to be closer to the musical and the Disney movie, though it will have a splattering of book and made-up stuff in between.)

Disclaimer: I absolutely own nothing except the wording and my made-up character. 

Extra: No one has said anything yet about it but I have a feeling that someone or another is going to comment about a Mary Sue. The truth is, people, you can't have a girl main character without her having at least one likeable thing. Perhaps mine is a bit more likeable, but have you _ever found a book with a main character girl who wasn't in the tiniest bit a Mary Sue? Another point, my character may be Mary-Sue-ish, but at least she doesn't go around wearing armor and carrying a large broadsword while still maintaining a small waist and perfect figure. __Those are the ridiculous Mary Sues._

Welp, back to the story! Here is my rather descriptive and slow Chapter 1.

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A small breeze drifted through the Dodger's strangled and tangled hair, trying to lift it into the cold air. After failing miserably, the naïve gust of air gave up and went to fly up the petticoats of a preposterously tall and heavy-weighted lady who, herself, was losing her silk purse to the thin hands of a dirty, gypsy-skirted girl. 

The Artful Dodger's eyebrows raised slightly over his deep blue eyes as the grimy, immoral lass and lovely pink, silk purse disappeared into the deep throng of the mixed crowd of London. All kinds prospered here, but they all had a city air. The girl had the definite feel of a petty thief from a small village… But who was he to judge on pettiness? After all, Oliver turned out alright. 

_Do you know what peaching is?_

_Yes, Dodger. It's telling._

_It's tattling. Peaching is the worst thing you can do._

_I'd never peach on **you, Dodger. You're my friend.**_

_All friends is are backstabbers, Oliver._

Suddenly, one of the Dodger's hands snapped out and came in contact with a thin, fragile wrist attached to a tanned hand that was receding from his pocket with a handkerchief and a small, copper coin. He quickly whirled around to look down into the face of the girl he had seen.

"You're taller than I thought you were," his smooth voice sounded like one of a gentleman, not a tramp. 

The black haired lass looked up in surprise. She tried to struggle free but soon gave up and began to beg in a chagrined, her almost non-existent Cockney accent pushing into her quiet speech.

"Aoow! I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't mean to…I mean, it wasn't…Well, the truth is… I jest saw the thing a'lyin' there an' thought a fine gennle-man had dropped it and wouldn't need it."

Dodger rolled his eyes. "Then what was your hand doing in my pocket?"

"Ai…ummm…aoow….Ahh…"

"You're not very good at fibbin' are you?"

The girl looked slowly down at her feet and shook her head. "I'm 'fraid not, sir."

"Good. I hate not knowing whether people are telling me the truth or lying. Well, come on then."

The lass frowned slightly and looked back up, confused. "Wot?"

The Dodger sighed, his warm breath exciting the straight brown hair hanging in front of his tanned face. 

"You need a place to stay for a bit?"

"Well yes, but how..."

'Then follow me."

The girl blinked gradually and then, glancing around a bit hurriedly, slipped after Dodger behind a large stall of fruit and into the inside world of London.

_When you're in trouble, follow the thief, love. He always knows where to hide._


	3. In Which Her Gender Is Confused

Disclaimer: No, I do not own anything! Nothing!!!! Alright? NOTHING AT ALL!!!

Author's Note: I know how much everyone hates this and it drives me crazy (well, as crazier as I can get, anyways) but I will not post the third chapter until I get at least 3 reviews. I'm not very ambitious…Just three…..a pitiful three? Pretty please? I really just need feed-back on my writing techniques, etc.

Oh, by the way. If you see a longer section of italicized text (_this is italicized)_ then it's a flashback from either the Dodger or Aster's point of view.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"What your name, girl?"

"It's Aster, boy."

Dodger smiled quietly at the girl's spunk and flashy spark of life. His mood a bit lightened, Dodger turned and gave an elegant bow.

"The name's Jack Dawkins. But me nearest and dearest call me Dodger… The Artful Dodger."

Aster's dry, wry voice stung quickly. "I can nae wonder why, Mr. Dawkins."                                                                          Her sarcasm dripped slowly off of her thin, pressed lips. The Dodger had been "kind" enough to show her how he had fit all the things he had taken (that she herself had stolen) from her. His large coat had enough room to fit _her into it._

The Dodger grinned and turned back around to continue walking down the alleyway.

"Let me warn you, Aster. Ever since… Ever since a lovely lady named Nancy died, me and my boys have been living alone (A/N: No nasty thoughts, please. I'm not writing anything along those lines.) and only going out to take whatever we need."

Aster raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And the boys'll probably seem a bit uneasy with a girl in their midst. Well…at least the more moral ones. Some of the ones about our age will be quite alright, but the others might be sugges-"

The black-haired girl cut him off. "Do nae worry, Mr. Dawkins. (("It's Dodger")) I will nae do anything to make the poor dears uncomfortable. They'll be quite a'ight."

"Mr. Hawkins" only replied with a small shake of his head and a quiet mutter. "It's not them 'poor dears' I'm worried about."

If Aster heard, she gracefully ignored his comment and held her head high up, looking all the world like a proud lady who has donned rags and decided to (gracefully) crawl and roll through the mud. 

The Dodger hid his grin and began to walk back down the thin and hidden street. He breathed deeply and smiled like a man returning to a long-lost love. 

"We're almost there. Can't you smell those sausages?"

Aster followed his lead and took a deep breath through her nose. Her brown eyes sparkled happily and her tan face broke into a beaming smile at the spicy-sweet smell of sausages and sauce.

"Smells loverly."

"Lovely."

"Loverly."

"Lovely."

"Whatever."

+++++++

The Dodger knocked on the wooden door in a pattern while Aster looked around. 

The safe place was a large building hidden behind more deserted large buildings far and deep in the middle of London. A small plank bridge crossed the stream that went by it and led to the flight of stairs that showed the way to the wooden door of the "home." The place seemed dark and dismal, yet radiated a sort of unhappy love about it. Aster decided immediately that she liked the place. 

A young boy's voice broke her thoughts and replied to the Dodger's patterned knock. "Death at the door?"

Dodger replied with an equally strange answer. "Only his little rat thief."

"There's two of you down there. Who's the other?"

_"A new pal," replied Jack Dawkins, pulling Oliver forward.   
"Where did he come from?"   
"__Greenland__. Is Fagin up stairs?"   
"Yes, he's a sortin' the wipes. Up with you!"_

"Jack's friend is to be treated with the utmost courtesy!" Dodger's rich voice floated to the large, shadow-covered building, pulling him back from his sad memoirs. 

"Oh, alright, then, Dodger! Come on chaps! Dodger's back and he's brought and new boy!"

Dodger smirked to Aster in response to the immediate assumption that his protégée was male.  He entered before Aster and grinned happily, hugging and laughing with the lads who were so happy to see him. Even the elder ones who were his peers seemed to rely on him after Fagin had been arrested and went crazy in jail.

Aster saw him among his comrades and smiled to herself, softly. She walked fully into the building and approached the mass of hugs, not really wanting to disturb the moment.

The boys, hearing the faint sound of boots on wood, turned quickly to size up the latest kid and gasped in shock. One of the youngest boys, of about six, turned and tugged on the sleeve of a slightly older one.

"Why is the new boy wearing skirts, Jeoff?"

"That's not a boy in skirts, Roger, that's a **_girl_!!!" **

_"Thieves and murderers  is almost always happy, dearie. They know they is goin' to die sooner or later and they show the world they do nae care" _

_"I'm gonna be thief, mummy! Jest like you is  and daddy was." _

_"I hope not, love. No one respects gypsies and thieves. You have a brain, you can lead a better life."_


	4. In Which He Accepts She

Disclaimer: AI!!!!! *huggles self* I own nothing but me and my computer…. And I don't even think I own that.

Author's Note: 

I know, I know—I promised to write this chapter if I got three reviews and I did, but I still felt cheated, so I waited a bit. I'm so terribly sorry.  Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom fans—Pirates of the Caribbean is a MUST SEE!!!! Not only is it a great movie—it's got great actors and actresses. Personally, I thought they just threw Orli in there because he was pretty but he can act! I have decided that Aster's name is pronounced 'A-ztar', unlikely it's original pronunciation. So there.… :P Please do not complain about the length of my chapters… They're short for a reason. The main one is—there is one important bit of information in every chapter for you to catch and remember. Two or three important bits would just be too much. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Aster quietly sat on a large mattress, Dodger's makeshift bed, with a hot cup of cocoa in her hands. The boys and Dodger were standing rather far-off, whispering to each other. Ignoring the distance, her quick ears managed to catch snippets of the conversation.

"Now, boys, she can stay here and—"

"Dogger, she's a girl!"

"We can see that, Roger, the question is what to do with her."

"I can think of plenty things to do with her." 

"Liam!"

"Sorry, Dodger."

"You _should_ be. I don't want anything to happen to her, and that includes crude jokes, Liam. We may be thieves but we are not murderersor people of that nature. We still manage to keep our gentlemanly nature… Just like that Robin Hood chap."

"Got it."

"Now, we can keep her here while we redistribute. She can take the stitching off the handkerchiefs. If we all have to leave, she can probably come with us and sing for pennies or something."

"That or we could take he to the local pub and—"

"LIAM!"

"Sorry."

"Now, first things first, no one can know she's here—not even Jeremy the fish seller… They trust us more than they'd trust a gypsy… Not saying there's anything wrong with gypsies, of course. I used to live with a delightful old gypsy chap before Fagin found me."

Aster quickly stood, deposited her hot cocoa on the floor, and ungracefully squirmed her way through the ring of boys towards the center and Dodger.  A blonde haired, blue eyed boy perhaps a year younger than Dodger stood talking to the top-hatted ringleader.  She shoved the boy out of the way and looked up into the Dodger's face, her eyes dark and determined. 

"I'm not going to sit here and sew like an old maid! That is _not_ why I came here. I can learn how to thieve like you do; I'm pretty good already."

The blonde boy, Liam, snorted but the Dodger held up a rough hand. 

"Alright, then, Aster. We'll test you."

The lads and Aster stood speechless for a second before Dodger pushed Liam to the middle of the room. He then pulled out a handkerchief and chained watch and put them in Liam's pockets, deep to the seam.

"A simple, beginner test. Take them both…without Liam catching you."

"Ai…" Aster shook herself out of a daze and walked to the center of the room.

"Liam is a fine gentleman on a stroll in the park."

Liam, the best actor of the lot next to Dodger, followed his lead and began to strut across the room, swinging an imaginary cane. Aster also began acting, untying one of her upper skirts and holding it over her shoulders as she formed a plan. When they were in a few feet of each other, Liam raised his hand to an imaginary hat in respect while Aster slowly dropped her make-shift shawl to let it tangle in Liam's feet. She quickly fell to her knees and began to untangle it, speaking in an Irish brogue. 

"Ai! Ah'm so turribly sorry, sir! 'Tis all meh fault!" 

Liam raised his eyebrow, wondering what her idea is, but replied with a nod of his head and began walking again. Aster stood up slowly, and tied her skirt back around her waist. She walked primly to Dodger, her thin lips twisted into a smug smile. Dodger held out both his hands, eyes questioning. 

"Well, Miss Aster?"

Aster grinned, turned around to rummage in her layers of skirts and turned back to reveal the gold watch, the white handkerchief, brass shoe buckles and three gold coins. 

Dodger blinked in surprise and then turned to a blushing Liam. 

"And what is _your_ opinion, O great, powerful, and ignorant one?"

"I felt the absence of my shoe buckles after a second or two, but, Dodger, with a bit of work, she could be as good as one of us older ones," Liam replied earnestly.

The girl-gypsy's face turned up to the Dodger in excited expectation, her finger clutching at her skirts. He smiled down at her eager face and laid both coarse hands on her shoulders. "Alright. You can come with us, but no picking pockets until I'm sure… Comrade Outlaw Aster."

The small boy called Roger spoke up, his tiny, round face gleaming, "'Ave you told 'er about peachin' yet, Dogger?"

Dodger nodded solemnly to Roger and then turned to Aster. 

"You don't tell anybody any names, places, hints, actions, or anything unless you want me to let Liam sell you to worst tavern he knows."

Aster quickly saluted. "Got it. No telling a 'tall!" 

Dodger nodded decisively. "Alright, then. Time to go to bed!"

"Dodger! We're in the middle of a poker game!"  
"I's got te finish my supper!"

"Jest a few more minutes, _please?"_

"Well….alright, then. I'll find Aster a bed or somewhat but by the time she's comfortable, you lot had better be done with whatever yer doin'."

"A'ight, Dodger!"

_Ah, the safest place is to sleep with thieves, my dear. They always want to know what your next move will be and whether you'll be useful._

_Why didn't Daddy sleep safe, then?_

_Well, dear, in __London__ things are quite a bit different. Your daddy slept at a place with the wrong sort of thieves; they were robbers and murderers._

_Mummy, who **really killed Daddy?**_

_Your daddy was killed by two very bad men. A tutor named Archier and one his pupils named Roberto._

_Are the bad men gone, Mummy?_

_One is. Another of the students killed the teacher, a right good boy named Jack._

_How old is the student?_

_He's a year older than you, Star. He's twelve.  _


	5. In Which She is Barrelhiding

Disclaimer: Gosh! If you're here you already know I own NOTHING!!!

Author's Note: I've heard some express the difficulty in the italic flashbacks. Quite simply, the ones at the end of every chapter are Aster's and the ones in between are Dodger's. All of Dodger's flashbacks are straight from the book and usually have something like "Jack Dawkins replied, pushing the boy forward." *salute* Oh, and this story is going to be a bit déjà vu-ish (you'll see my little laugh at this in a few minutes) for a bit. I just need a way to get the bad chap(as in bad character) in there.

Oh, and Jack Dawkins is the Dodger…If you didn't know that…Heh.

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The spicy-sweet smell Aster had been admiring last night now drifted through her distracted dreams and memories, forcing her mind towards waking up. She yawned and stretched, her movements almost bored and cat-like. Blue-black hair hung around her shoulders, disheveled and giving her the appearance of, well, someone who has been sleeping. The smell seemed to get stronger and made her realize that someone had brought her sausages.

"Ah, 'ello. What's your name again, dear?"

The small boy grinned slightly and pushed back his brown hair. "M'name's Roger, Miss. These sausages are for you to eat, Dogger said."

Aster's bright eyes laughed quietly, clashing with her solemn face. She took the plate, thankfully, and began to eat the juicy pieces of meat. 

Once she was finished, Roger took back the plate and skipped off to somewhere around the corner, leaving Aster to get cleaned up and straightened out. As soon as she was sure he was gone, the gypsy-girl pulled her layered skirts over her head to lie on her petticoats and join at the waist with her billowing blouse.  Her deft, delicate hands quickly took back the clouds of hair and pulled them into a braid. The hands then dipped themselves into the water basin near Aster's pile of blankets and came up to wash her face. 

Finally, her face clean and her body dressed, Aster walked out of her curtained area towards the large table in the center of the room where everyone was chatting. Dodger approached from the head of the table to talk with her.

"We are going out, today… I think it would be the perfect time to test you. While Liam takes the boys out to the park and then the streets, I'm going to escort you to a little shop that I haven't been to in quite awhile. Alright, then?"

Aster nodded in response.

"Okay. Boys, time to go! Follow Liam and stick to your jobs! Aster, follow me."

Top hat in hand, Dodger led a different way out of the abandoned building, going towards the opposite side of London. It was about noon when the odd two arrived in the market and store section of town. Dodger quickly pushed his hat on his head and beckoned Aster to a familiar old bookstore. 

_They were just emerging from a narrow court not far from the open square in Clerkenwell, which is yet called, by some strange perversion of terms, "The Green:" when the Dodger made a sudden stop; and, laying his finger on his lip, drew his companions back again, with the greatest caution and circumspection._

_"What's the matter?" demanded Oliver._

_"Hush!" replied the Dodger. "Do you see that old cove at the book-stall?"_

_"The old gentleman over the way?" said Oliver. "Yes, I see him."_

_"He'll do," said the Dodger._

"Do you see that man about our age, Aster?"

"Yes. Do you wish me to take from him?"

Dodger looked up in surprise. His last protégé had not been so eager to become a thief. 

"Yes, I wish you to steal his watch."

"Got it, Dodger."

Aster quickly weaved herself in between the crowds towards the book-stall. She picked up a classic and walked over to the young man. 

"Hello, sir? Could you give me your opinion of this book? I have heard it to be a great piece of literature."

Dodger blinked in disbelief as the country brogue left Aster and her voice held the delicateness of a lady. As the man gave his view on the book, she swiftly began reaching towards his pocket, her movements hidden by her scarves…Unfortunately, the only possible witness was currently witnessing. The store owner quickly ran towards the two. 

"Sir! She's a thief, sir!"

Dodger rolled his eyes, but had the grace to look worried as he quickly ran up and pulled Aster away from the man, dropping the watch and running towards an alley and followed by a variety of people who had taken up the cry. 

"This is not good…Your first day and you get witnessed!"

"It's not my fault! I'm more used to crowded settings."

"It doesn't matter anymore. Here, hide behind this barrel."

Dodger pushed the girl behind a barrel and ran into the crowd. "She went this way; follow me!"

After a few minutes, Aster felt safe enough to get out from behind the barrel…Unfortunately, she chose to do so just as the book seller was coming back by.

"Aha! There you are. I've got you now! Come on. The fine gentleman is waiting near the small courthouse for someone to find you."

And so, the man dragged a struggling Aster all the way to the young man, and her hearing.

++++++++++++

Dodger spit out a long line of curses as he traveled back to the building. After almost getting away, that idiot girl had taken it in her head to leave the barrel and get caught before he came back… He stormed into the thieves' headquarters and sighed at all the expectant faces looking up at him. 

"She got caught. She might be able to act but she has no wits, I swear!"

Liam shook his head. "She's too good for that, Dodger. Perhaps she's just used to crowded settings."

Jack Dawkins frowned down at Liam, unimpressed by this statement. "We have to get her back, Liam. We'll go to the hearing and see what happens… I don't think she'll peach, but I'm not sure."

The small boy called Roger swung his legs from his high place on the table. "This is like that deggy blu thing Fagan used to talk about."

Liam grinned slightly and turned to Dodger. "It'll be okay if it is a sort of déjà vu circumstance."

Rough hands wrung themselves tightly. "No, Liam… I'm afraid it won't be okay... I recognize that man she was stealing from… And he isn't the chap she needs to get to know."

_Mother, tell me the story again._

_Again, Star? You've heard it ever since it really happened. Aren't you a bit old for stories?_

_Please, Mother? It's so happy in the end…I need some hope before I leave to __London__. And you said it really happened. Aren't I 'posed to know history?_

_Yes, dear, you are. Well, alright. It can't hurt. A few years ago, there was a small boy named Oliver whose mother had died when he was born…_


	6. In Which She is Judged

Disclaimer: You know it already….*Sticks out tongue* So leave me alone.

Author's Note: I'm so utterly, totally, completely, absolutely, positively, definitely, entirely, wholly, fully, unreservedly, wholeheartedly glad that y'all are enjoying my story. I personally didn't think it would turn out to be a hit with even one person, but you all seem to at least act like you enjoy it, even if you don't. I just wanted to give a tiny thanks. Thanks. ^-^ If things here seem to get TOO repetitive of the book and/or movies, just remember that I'm doing it to lead up to something that needs to happen.

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The black-robed man was quietly snoring as the guard presented the case. No one seemed disturbed by this; the man was probably one of the worst judges chosen to do anything. He mostly dealt with juvenile cases—causing half of them to end up in places worse than they deserved. His jowls hung in rows of disgusting fat and his nose was flat, causing the middle age man to look like a rather large pig. At this moment, he was supposed to be listening to the case of a man who was almost robbed in a book shop but didn't want to press charges. Instead, the book-seller was angry that all the thieves liked to steal at HIS store and wished her to go into jail. 

Aster, her black hair now pulled back so the judge could see her "filthy, lying, gypsy face", was staring defiantly at the man who she had been about to rob. Finally, the judge awoke, and looked down at Aster.

"Where'd you learn 'ow to rob, girl?"

"I didn't. It's a natural born instinct in gypsies, sir," Aster replied, her face bent in an angry scowl.

"Aha! I knew it…Just as I suspected. All gypsies are liars and robbers." Sarcasm was totally wasted on the imbecile. "Well, that settles it. Guilty as charged by the bookman. Fives years in jail. Court dismissed."

Suddenly, the young man who was-to-be robbed jumped up and appeared near the girl. "Sir, I disagree with your sentence. This young woman never really stole anything from me… All the book keeper saw was her looking very suspicious. In fact, the only thing she could've taken is my watch and it's still here. I believe the book-keeper assumed she was stealing from me and that she was simply frightened and ran."

Aster's face immediately became one of precocious innocence. "Exactly."

The book-keeper sighed quietly and nodded in agreement. "That's true."

The judge rolled his eyes and began muttering. "Filthy nobles…Always trying to do good in the world…. Get repetitious after awhile. Alright! I give up. The gypsy's in custody of this young idiotic noble whom I hope gets robbed out of his wits. Court dismissed."

Dark eyes widening, Aster looked up at her new keeper who blinked slowly down at her. Suddenly, he shrugged and walked out of the room, making sure Aster was following. They both climbed into a carriage while Aster asked her first question. 

"Do you really think I was innocent?"

The young man laughed and laid a charming, white hand upon her knee, whispering confidentially. "Not for a second."

+++++++++++++++

Dodger cursed, making Liam and Roger blink in shock. 

"This is absolutely horrible. I don't know if that's the chap, but he's definitely slick enough to be."

"If 'oo's the chap, Dogger?"

"The guy who just drove off with our newest member… If it's who I think, we're in trouble."

Liam snorted. "Maybe he just wants Aster to do a little—"

"Liam!"

"Sorry."

+++++++++++

"Well, here we are, Miss Aster."

As her keeper, the young man named Edward Williams, opened the carriage door for her, Aster looked at her new home. It was set right in the middle of a row of three to four story houses along a street that was right beside a circular park. It was coloured a honey-yellow and was trimmed in white. Four stories high, it was accented with a lovely front yard that was covered in rose bushes and lovely daises. Quickly, Aster snapped shut her open mouth and climbed out, determined not to be amazed by anything in this elegant, beautiful, enchanting…place. The coach driver ran up the walkway to open the door for the two and smiled quietly at Aster's astonished look. Edward also grinned before entering the front room and hanging his black cloak on the coat stand. Aster quickly took in the inside of the house—the curved stairway that led to the bedrooms, the gold and bronze colour scheme, and the two maids who were now hurrying to welcome her.

"Ah, good. Sarah, Gabrielle, I wish for you to meet Miss Aster. She is my guest and will be living with us. Sarah, would you please take her up to the green and blue room? Gabrielle, would you have her measured once she is situated and go and buy her the appropriate attire for this neighborhood?"

"Yes, sir," the maids replied as one.

Sarah started bustling up the stairs, dwarfing the trailing Aster in her petticoats and large bone structure. She turned to the right and walked down a long corridor of bedrooms before arriving at the last one. 

"Here's your room, dear. I had just aired it out… Master Edward is the one for picking up strangers and taking care of them for awhile. Why, last week there was this old man who…"

At this point, Aster had stopped listening and had instead started examining the room. It was large and a beautiful blue-green colour with many accenting pieces—a green desk and chair, a blue rocking chair and a large, _large_ blue and green bed. The room adjoining the bedroom was a large bathing room complete with blue walls and a porcelain tub. 

Aster immediately ran back into the bedroom, delight written on every line of her face. Perhaps this Edward chap was a nice person…

"Ah, the Master is the kindest man alive, I tell you. He's taken in more strays than anyone I know… Of course, Mr. Brownlow took in that nice boy Oliver and then found out they're related. They live right beside us with Ms. Rose and all but I always said, I did, that child is…"

A few keywords broke into Aster's dreaming mind and woke her up. "Oliver? Mr. Brownlow? They live here?"

"Well, yes, dearie, I just said that. Anyways, the poor child was beaten by—"

But by now, Aster was too busy putting together pieces. Hadn't Dodger called himself Jack Dawkins one night? And didn't he talk about Fagin in a sad voice every once in awhile? Mother had never mentioned a nickname for Jack Dawkins…But then she always said she had just heard the story from a visiting girl who claimed to be Nancy's friend. What if the story were true? 

Suddenly, Sarah bustled back in, making Aster realize she didn't notice her leave. Well, it didn't matter if the tale were true… It just meant she had found and lived with a bunch of thieves in a story and was lucky. If what she had occasionally caught Sarah saying was true, she might as well call herself Ms. Williams and be adopted into the family.

_Mother, since I must wait until summer to go to __London__, would you please give me some advice or get someone to write down one of your stories?___

_Oh, Star, you've got all my stories memorized and I've given you all the advice I know._

_Then make something up, Mother. _

**_Smile_**_. Alright then, dear. Take any help you can get and never be too proud. If someone invites you to live with them for awhile or offers you some money because they think gypsies are just animals who are mistreated, don't be hurt…just take what they give you…_

_And what they don't give me, right, Mother?_

_Aster! I want you to learn how to be a well-bred person…Not a thief._

_I'm sorry, Mother…_

**It's too late.**


	7. In Which She is Invited and He Decides t...

Disclaimer: I am NOT Charles Dickens. I am a simple female whose only gifts are a somewhat witty mind, writing, singing, acting, humility, perfection, hair, loveliness… You see how self-degrading I am? I could never be Charles Dickens!

Author's Note: I have written an author's note in at least most of my chapters, if not all. That is why this is here. I am not the one to mess with tradition. 

+++++++++++++++++

_Click. Click. Pause. _"Ouch" _Click. Click._

Aster quickly composed herself before entering the breakfast room. Even though she had been wearing deadly high-heeled shoes and "ladies'" clothing for a week, the awkward boots and long dresses made her feel less like a lady and more like a clumsy clown.

She continued wearing the hooped, foot-long skirts and corsets only because they were lovelier versions of what she wore when she was gypsy girl…and Edward liked them. 

A revelation of truth had hit Aster, making her slowly realize how much she needed compliments and pretty things to hide her unrefined self behind in this fresh world. Her new beginning was a place of manners, elegance, dancing, intrigues and romances. It was a strange but delightful, new world.

The manservant, Richard, opened the door to the breakfast room, surprising Aster and forcing her to back up into a desk.

"Oh, dear. I'm _so_ terribly sorry, Miss. I was just about to send one of the girls to tell you that Master Edward has prepared a picnic lunch for you both to enjoy in the park." His slightly nasal and aloof changed as he winked and whispered, conspiratorially. "I heard him talking about a surprise for you, also."

"Thank you ever so much, Richard," Aster replied, allowing her voice to drift up in the air like a lady's was supposed to and trying not to laugh. "I am honored."

Richard grinned at her as she slipped into the breakfast room to grab a plain biscuit and honeyed scone before charging back up the stairs to read while she waited for lunch time to arrive. 

~~+++~~

Most "civilized" people believe that gypsies are barbaric and know nothing of politics or literature. The truth, however, is very different. Based on studies and stories, Aster has concluded that the first gypsies were simply ridiculed and called names until someone took these names and false characters as truth and made the gypsy stereotype. 

The main reason people subconsciously dislike gypsies is because they actually _do_ know too much. They are everywhere. 

Main meat seller at the market—a gypsy.

Bartender at the Wet Whistle—a gypsy.

And quite a few gypsies make their home and money as ladies of negotiable affection in places of ill repute—the perfect place to hear about new happenings. (A/N: If you don't understand, move on.)

Because they are so unpopular, gypsies have become even more perceptive and spread out…But Aster is the first so far to live in an uncommon, rich place without being and having a bad reputation. 

And Aster is very observant.

And Aster reads in to many hidden things.

And something strange drifts its way through this house.

~~+++~~

The picnic had been a delightful mix of salads and fruits—light but very filling. Finally, the smacking sound emerging from Edward ceased and he smiled to Aster.

"Tonight, there will be a masque in honor of one of our neighbors. The boy is Mr. Brownlow's grandson, Oliver, and it is his coming of age party. The maids told me how interested you are in his story, so I've decided to take you with me."

Aster's mouth dropped open in surprise at this announcement. Amused, Edward pushed it closed.

"I've asked Gabrielle to make us costumes that matched in coloration and I think she's done a swell job. She finished mine last week and yours two days ago. So? What do you say?"

Aster smiled happily. "Of course I'll go! It sounds amazing!"

Quickly, she jumped up and pecked Edward on the cheek, not noticing him give a slight, almost harsh smile as they started to clear up the plates.

+++++++

"That rat calls himself "Edward" now! I can't _believe she trusts him. Even..."_

"—Even if he seems to be a quite jolly chap who just enjoys making her happy? Sounds like you're a bit jealous, Dodger."

Liam began unstitching another handkerchief as he waited for another stream of curses. Instead, however, Dodger smiled fanatically.

"You're right. Maybe he has stopped. Still, we're going to that masque to see Oliver and check up on this chap."

Liam sighed as he put down the napkin. "Alright, Dodger."

+++++++

_Are you happy _now_, Mother?_

_No, Star, there's something wrong about you going to __London__. I don't care if Rone's taught you everything he knows, Old Woman Inter says something is going to happen to you._

_Mother! You told me yourself that she is just uneducated and can't really read that crystal ball._

_Yes, I did, Star. But that doesn't mean she can't see things that we can't._

_You can't keep me here forever._

_I know, but it doesn't make it any easier. Stay tonight, please? And take this box. Your father carved it. You can store your memories in it._

_Oh, thank you, Mother! ...And, ok, I'll stay tonight._

+++++++

The last memory Aster stored in her box was the night she left. She ran from the caravan, followed by enemy raiders and the smoke drifting from the burning wagon where her mother's ashes lay.

+++++++

Aster clicked the box shut for the last time and shoved it into one of the drawers so she wouldn't have to see it again and be reminded of her dying mother and Old Woman Inter's last prophecy… Something was dreadfully wrong.


End file.
